Letters
by To love and be loved
Summary: Sherlock was never great with words. So how does he decide to handle something as romantic as telling his flatmate he's in love with him? He writes a note. But what happens when John doesn't find it for 3 days? K for innuendos


This is just a short ficlet I wrote for my friend Savanah's 16th birthday~ Hope you like!

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Sherlock's hands hesitantly slipped the envelope into the top of his flat mates door frame. Sherlock hesitated, then walked away, sure enough John would get the note.

_-3 days later-_

John looked at his flat mate, Sherlock, and saw he was in a sulking mood again. This wasn't due to lack of cases, they had just finished one a few hours previous. This was something more. He'd been acting this way for a few days now. John couldn't understand.

"Sherlock?" John said, trying to get the man in question to look at him which he hadn't for almost 72 hours. Sherlock merely sighed in response to show he was paying attention.

"Do you want some tea? It's a bit cold today. Plus the heats on the fritz again. Ought to tell Mrs. Hudson don't you think?" John pressed on, still getting nothing more than an exasperated sigh. John sighed and stood, making his way to the kitchen. After setting the kettle full of water on the stove to heat up he grabbed the box containing the tea leaves. After looking for a second he shut the lid and made a decision. Tough times call for special tea.

Making his way to the stairs, he headed up to his room to find his store of special tea leaves that were a gift from a previous lover. John then thought to himself, this was the first time all week he had been up to his room. He had been sleeping on the couch in the living room, working late nights on cases. Opening the door, he saw an envelope flutter in his peripheral vision. After retrieving his store of leaves, he turned to pick up the envelope. His name had been printed clearly on the front. After making his way down to the kitchen, he set the leaves in the already boiling water and opened the envelope. Inside, written in the same fine print was a letter reading:

Dr. John Watson,

I am writing you this letter, because I have been told when it comes to face to face conversation I tend to have a… mechanical sense with words.

Since this is regarding a topic far from mechanical I thought it best to write you. It has come to my attention that the things I am feeling, in regard to you… Have strayed from their original professional state and switched to a more… romantic stance.

If it were convenient to you I would like to know how you feel about this proposed change in relationship status.

Yours Truly,

SH

John let the note fall from his hands to the ground, trying to comprehend what he had just read. Not only was Sherlock proposing that he was, in fact, homosexual, as John had recently come out to be, but he wanted a relationship with him?

The kettle indicated that the tea was ready, and in a sort of fix, John made a cup for himself and his flat mate.

Walking out the living room, John set down Sherlock's tea. After turning to claim his tea, the consulting detective was met by a shell shocked John, holding what he recognized to be his… uhm… 'letter'

"Oh… you found that…" Sherlock averted his eyes and looked at the warm liquid in the cup he was holding. "I- I was starting to think you had found it but was just ignoring it." Sherlock's eyes moved about, looking at anything but his newly professed loves eyes."Yes, I found it. Sherlock." John said softly. When the detective still refused to meet his eyes he added. "Sherlock, look at me." The younger mans eyes looked up to meet the bloggers.

"Next time you have to tell me something this important just say it to my face, okay? It's not like I was going to turn you down or anything." John said, exasperatingly. Sherlock's cheeks turned a little pink. "So, you do feel the same?" He asked, wanting to be nothing if not crystal clear. John rolled his eyes."Of course I do. Now drink your tea, you're going to catch a cold." John said ghosting his hand under Sherlock's, bringing the cup to his lips. The detective took a small sip and set his cup down as his eyes flashed. "Well, I know another way we could keep warm." He said, offering a hand to his blogger, leading the two towards Sherlock's comfort promising room.

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Was it horrible? I know, it was wasn't it ;A;


End file.
